Dragonfly
by Sa-kun
Summary: Sometimes, settling in and finding your niche in the world requires you to leave the safety and familiarity of the place you have always called home. CWHP, SLASH
1. Quidditch and Changes

**Warnings:** It's AU after HBP. Those who died in DH are alive, I think, except Voldemort, who's dead. It contains **SLASH**, or rather, it will. In chapter…two? I think? This one's merely got mentions of **homosexuality**. Anyway, there's a bit of language, and some sexual insinuations.

I'm terribly bad at this.

Let me know if I should add something to the warning, 'kay? Also, I'm really glad people liked my last CharlieHarry fic.

* * *

**Quidditch and Changes.**

It had always been there, that unhealthy attraction to danger; as a child who goaded his relatives; as a youth who gallivanted and lived out adventures at Hogwarts; as an adolescent who was pushed into a war and, subsequently, forced to kill Voldemort. Voldemort who had, after all, been responsible for most of Harry's near death experiences.

Quidditch had been of his own volition. Professional Quidditch was nothing like the safe, secure sport performed on Hogwarts. Especially not in the backwaters of south-eastern Europe in a country so close to Bulgaria and Viktor Krum that an up-and-coming Seeker would have a chance to be somewhat anonymous and adapt. Because in that part of Europe _Krum_ was the best. Potter was just a bratty wannabe from England who pretended to know the sport. Down there, everyone knew that Englishmen were pansies and that the 'sport' they called 'Quidditch' really was just a tea party with your old neighbours.

His team members were nice, of course, and they only threatened him enough for Harry to know that losing was not preferable if he wanted to remain in full control of all his faculties. His opponents made his games against Slytherin seem like leisure walks in a park in the sun.

It was thrilling, demanding and Harry loved it. Seven matches out of ten, Harry had caught the Snitch. And Harry felt very proud of himself for accomplishing even that much. He knew that with his only previous experience on the Gryffindor team – the gap between that and professional Quidditch was huge – even catching it once would have been a miracle. He had been seriously disadvantaged in the beginning. His team taken a perverse amount of pleasure in reminding Harry of this. So while they certainly didn't win their league, they did secure a neat third place on the ranking list.

"Good game, Potter!" their gruff coach called in broken English, his thick German accent coming through more than usual. Harry smiled and at once the man barked, "And stop that pansy acting!" Harry wiped the smile from his face and nodded.

Right.

Pansy Potter.

How could he have forgotten?

Harry snorted and shook his head. What, exactly, was it Seekers benefited from again? Being small, lithe and quick, right? Being somewhat athletic didn't hurt but it wasn't required, just like the wiry, strong build of the Chasers were preferred, but not required as long as they had _strength, muscles _and_ speed. _Harry had to be agile and he had to be able to manoeuvre, quickly and easily, and he had to make sure to stay on his broom and not fall off like a goddamn weakling.

"You do good, Potter," Ivanov, the Russian Keeper, grinned and clapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry bit back a groan; damn that man was strong.

"Thanks. You, too."

Ivanov's grin widened and he winked. "I know. Oh." He stopped, hand on the door and about to push it open. "You have visitor."

Visitor? Harry raised his eyebrows. "Huh. Didn't know I knew anyone in Bucharest…"

He did, it turned out, however brief and accidental the acquaintance.

* * *

It was the hair that gave him off. That and the freckles.

"…Weasley?" The man turned around, an eyebrow sort of raised but not quite. "Charlie Weasley?"

"Yup."

Then Harry, much to his eternal embarrassment and sappiness, attacked the man he barely knew, had met a grand number of three times, with a hug. "It's damn good to see you…"

"Well—"

"Shut up. I miss the Burrow."

"So do I, Potter—"

"—Harry—"

"—but you don't see me attaching myself to any of the redheads around." Harry sniffed. It took a mere second for Charlie to sigh and bring his arms around Harry's back in an awkward, affectionate hug. "Good playing, by the way."

Harry grinned and pulled back. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Charlie gave Harry a pat on his shoulder, then nodded towards the bar. "Beer?"

Harry nodded. "Hell, yeah."

* * *

"God," Harry groaned, eyes twinkling madly, "I thought your mum was gonna kill me when I said I'd got an offer from a Quidditch team in Romania… She looked absolutely furious…"

"I don't doubt you." Charlie smiled ruefully. He ran a hand through his messy hair. "Bill went to Egypt, I went off to play with dragons, Percy ran off, the twins do…whatever it is that they do and causes Mum to go prematurely grey. Then you, her great and utter pride—" Charlie gazed at him. His eyes twinkled and there was a dangerous smileplaying around the corners of his lips. "—tell her you're going abroad. To Romania. Where the dangerous dragons are. To play Quidditch" Harry began chuckling softly. It wasn't long before Charlie joined him. "Yeah," he said. "More beer?"

"Sure."

Much later, after they had a neat collection of glasses in various shapes and forms on their table, Harry frowned and turned to Charlie. He stared at him above the brim of his glasses. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" he wondered, not too seriously.

Charlie shook his head. His eyes were a bit glassy, but his lips were curved into a nice smile. "No. No. Maybe. I'm getting myself drunk, and you…too, obviously."

Harry nodded slowly in agreement "Okay, right."

"Potter!"

Harry's head shot up and his glasses slid down low on the tip of his nose. "Yes?" A blur came closer. A blur with hair Weasley red. Harry smiled brightly. "Ivanov! Hi! This is Charlie Weasley, he tames dragons, and you have just as great hair."

"You too much to drink, Potter," Ivanov muttered and could only Harry nodded sheepishly in accord. "It suit you." Harry scooted closer to Charlie as Ivanov moved in a chair, inviting himself to their table.

"Suits me?"

Ivanov nodded and poked Harry's cheek, stained red by the drink. "Makes you pretty, Potter."

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. He scooted closer to Charlie again, because while Ivanov was very easy on the eyes with his long red hair and steely grey eyes, he was a bloody promiscuous libertine. Charlie turned and grinned. "It does, doesn't it?" he asked.

"You're not supposed to agree, you know."

* * *

Spread eagle on his bed, Harry stared, without really seeing, at the ceiling of his small, cheap one-man cottage. He hurt. No, no… He didn't hurt; he _ached_. Badly. He was never going to fall off his broom ever again. Of course, that was a vow he had made many times – and one he never seemed capable of keeping, but it was still an important one to make regularly. Quidditch wasn't really a winter sport – not with the harsh winters mountains brought. Supposedly, they were 'taking it cool' for a while, but the coach was drilling him even harder than before and Harry had a hard time seeing how that was supposed to allow him to relax more in order to prepare for the spring and summer.

There was a knock on his door.

Harry groaned loudly. "No…I can't get up…I never have visitors…" A second knock soon followed, and it prompted Harry to cry out, "Yes!" and try to stand. Then he tried to walk. When he was halfway through his quaint kitchen, the door creaked open. Harry froze on the spot. "Who's there?" He nervously fingered his wand.

"Harry?"

Harry relaxed and sank to the ground. "_Charlie_," he moaned. "What are you doing here…?"

"Officially, I'm extending Mum's Christmas invitation. Unofficially," Charlie murmured, crouching in front of Harry, a teasing smile on his lips, "unofficially I'm here because I broke my wrist and my boss gave me the weekend off to 'recuperate'. How're you doing?"

"Got knocked off my broom." Harry scowled. "Again." He narrowed his eyes as he stared at Charlie's worn jumper. "I think they're aiming at me with their bloody Bludgers _because_ the former Seeker, now reserve, is jealous _because_ I took his place _because_ I'm much better than he ever was."

Charlie nodded. His cracked lips twitched as if he were holding back a much wider smile. "And how many potions did they shove down your throat?"

"…too many," he admitted. "But I'm still sore." Harry grimaced, and then used the cupboard and Charlie's shoulder to get back up on his feet, wincing all the way as his muscles pulled and bruises protested. "Christmas? So soon?"

"Time flies."

"Yeah…it certainly does." Harry smiled wryly. "Especially when you're having fun."

"So you _are_ having fun?"

Harry nodded. "Oh yes. They may think I'm a pansy Englishman—"

"Pansy?" Charlie interrupted with a chuckle.

Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Pansy Potter," he repeated. "Anyway, I'm still the best. Well. Sort of. Krum's the best, around here, but I'm getting a reputation. Which is good, right?"

Charlie nodded. "I suppose, yes."

"Mmmm. Do you want dinner, by the way?"

"Yes, please," Charlie said slowly. He rubbed his hands over his stomach in demonstration of his hunger, and it rumbled mere seconds later. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "I was kind of expecting that. You know, common sense and manners and all that."

"Great," Harry muttered. "Another Weasley glutton."

"Oi!" Charlie whacked him over the head. Harry easily ducked out of the way. "I haven't eaten since breakfast and _no one _eats more than Ron."

* * *

"Harry," Charlie called just as Harry came out of the bathroom the next morning, wearing naught but the towel flung around his hips. His wet hair clung to his skull. "You have a Floo call."

Harry's shoulders slumped. And Charlie had answered it, of course. Which meant that someone on his team knew that Harry'd had a man over. Great. Pansy Potter. Wonderful.

"Ah, Potter." There was a smirk on his teammate's face that made Harry feel vaguely uncomfortable. Harry wished he was wearing more, somehow, despite the fact that they had seen each other naked several times after matches and practices.

"Hello, Ionescu. What can I do for you?"

"Well," he drawled, "I drew the short stick."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You drew sticks about checking up on me?" Ionescu nodded, and Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."

A leer, and Harry looked away briefly. "So I can see. Nice catch, that one."

"No, wait—! We're not—!" Harry protested, but Ionescu was already gone, the connection broken and Harry was left sitting in front of a crackling fire with his hand a bit too close to the flames. Harry pulled it back with a hiss.

"Harry? Are you actually gay or are you just letting them assume you are?"

Harry started, his eyes wide. He clumsily turned around to look at Charlie. "Well," he said. "Sort of both, I think."

"'Sort of'?"

"You see," Harry admitted sheepishly as he stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, "I hadn't really given it much thought until they began calling me Pansy Potter… And I began wondering why. And they looked more amused than dissuaded when I protested, so I just stopped and let them…believe what they wanted."

* * *

"What?" Harry asked apprehensively, eyes slightly narrowed and moderately wary.

Charlie grinned mischievously at him. "Nothing." Harry's left eyebrow slowly rose. "I just told Mum to step back because I was bringing company this time around." He winked as Harry let out a soft sound of dismay. "How much do you wanna bet they think it's a girlfriend?"

"I'm not betting on lost causes, mate," Harry muttered. "I can't believe you let them think you're bringing— What if they think I'm your boyfriend or something?"

Charlie shrugged. His eyes twinkled. Harry just shook his head. Then Charlie narrowed his eyes in concentration as he disappeared. Moments later Harry had disappeared as well as he Apparated to a spot just outside the back door of the Burrow; he easily picked up on and followed the trail Charlie had left behind.

"—so who is it—? Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. Harry was immediately swept up in a hug that he readily and happily returned. "It's so good to see you again, dear boy! Oh, but you're so skinny!" She shook her head, her hands resting on his, admittedly, bony shoulders. "And would you believe that Charlie actually has a girlfriend, dear?"

Harry pursed his lips and frowned. "Mrs Weasley," he said wryly, "I'm the company. Charlie merely thought it amusing to use the excuse of 'guiding' me as—"

"_Charlie Weasley_!" she cried. Harry smirked gleefully as Charlie almost cowed back. He slipped inside the burrow without either party the wiser.

"Why are you smirking?"

"Put Charlie on the spot."

Bill laughed. Harry's smirk transformed into a wide grin. "Brill, innit?" he asked.

* * *

That night Harry was a bit surprised to find himself sharing a room with Bill and Charlie instead of with Ron, as usual. He had almost expected Bill to share with his wife, rather than a brother and a friend.

"Mum's a bit old-fashioned," Charlie said with a shrug. "Can't have Hermione sleep with Ron and she can't have you staying with Ginny and with our old rooms gone, we're lacking space."

"So Fleur sleeps with Hermione and Ron shares with Ginny, which gives us a room?" Harry shook his head, a tiny smile on his lips. "Infallible logic, that. Who am I sleeping with, then?"

Almost at once Bill took a huge step back. "Charlie of course. Who else? Me? I don't think so!"

"No," Charley said dryly, "Far be it from you to resist slipping into old habits, eh?"

Bill glared. "Would not," he muttered. He pointed at Harry. "You share with Charlie. I have a wife."

"Of course," Harry said quietly, then winked at Charlie as the man draped an arm over his shoulders. "I'm _his_ _girlfriend _after all." Charlie burst out laughing.

"And what a lousy girlfriend you make! Never offers to make breakfast, never offers to cook dinner, won't let me sleep in your bed—"

"Shut up."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't let you share— Charlie? _Hey_—!" With a loud groan, Bill was knocked to the ground. Charlie sat on top of him with a mocking, daft smile on his face. "What do you think you are doing, little brother?" Bill asked calmly.

"Oh, knock it off, Billy, you haven't been able to win over me in a game of wrestling for years, now. You're going soft." Charlie patted Bill on the stomach, as if to prove his words.

Bill grew still, then he raised an eyebrow. "Soft?" he growled. Charlie's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he remembered a crucial fact he had forgotten or ignored. "Tomorrow," Bill continued, "is the full moon."

Harry's eyes widened at that and _he _suddenly remembered what had happened in his Sixth Year, and how Bill now would be…different now and how Charlie indeed could have a slight…problem if he wanted to win.

* * *

"Ow," Charlie whispered as Harry's elbow knocked into his, sore, side. Harry bit back a grin and _accidentally_ did it again. "_Ow_."

"Oh, sorry," Harry said airily. "Are you hurt?"

"Cheeky bastard."

Harry chuckled softly as he turned around to lie on his side, face to face with Charlie. "You know…I accidentally slept with a werewolf once, and—"

"—if it's anything like a vampire then I don't really need to know. But. Just, _how_ do you do that by accident, mate?"

Harry flushed a bit and shrugged with difficulty. "I, um, didn't know. Well, I kinda got it after a while. Eyes and teeth and claws and all that. Um. Yes, but, no. It was very. Intense."

People tended to forget that magic wasn't something he had grown up with and that he therefore didn't always take it for granted. People like Charlie — and the werewolf he'd slept with — had known about magic all their lives, grown up surrounded by tales and creatures Harry hadn't even known existed until he was eleven. That a werewolf's ears were subtly un-rounded at the tips if you looked close enough or that their teeth were somewhat sharper than a human's, but not as long and impractical as a vampire's, were things they had grown up with and subsequently been told to stay away from. Harry had never even heard about it.

Well.

The werewolf community certainly couldn't accuse him of hating Dark Creatures, at least. If he ever went public with it, that was.

Nightly conversations, often tended to defy all logic and follow a twisted, spirally red thread, if that, and Harry wasn't really sure how their hushed conversation had changed from sex, strange sex partners, to Muggle television, to brooms and rabbits and sweeping and kites, to what they were discussing at the moment. Which was, namely, Harry's nickname.

"—you know, honestly, at first I was confused if they thought _my name _was Pansy, or if they thought _I was_ apansy."

"Sheltered much, Harry?" Charlie asked dryly.

"I'm _Harry Potter_, Charlie; who would even _dare _to question my macho heterosexuality?" Harry rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Anyway, that's part of why I accepted the offer in Romania. No one really gives a damn there. All they want of me is to catch the bloody Snitch, and do it when it's the most beneficial. And I'm a Seeker; I could _maybe _be a Chaser, but the way I'm built… So what if they call me Pansy Potter? I win the games for them!"

"Are you two quite done?" Bill suddenly said quietly, tiredly.

Harry blinked. "Bill…" He had forgotten entirely about him. By the wince on Charlie's face, he gathered that he had as well.

"_Goodnight_!"

(Or, rather, as Harry heard it: 'go to sleep, you damn bastards!)

* * *

"—I zink eet eez very cute, Bill."

"I don't. It's my brother."

"Still," Fleur insisted, and Harry forced his eyes open, "zey look like little boys."

"Eh?" he groaned.

"'Arry!" Fleur's head appeared directly above him and her blonde hair falling over her face into Harry's. He sputtered. She aimed a beautiful smile at him. "Good morning!"

Harry frowned and after several seconds of consulting, his brain managed to produce the proper word as well as slowly prompting him to wake up properly. He muttered, "…Fleur?" She nodded. Harry's frown deepened. "…what're you doin' 'ere?"

"Waking my 'usband, little 'Arry."

"M'not little!" Harry glared petulantly, then turned his face away and burrowed into the warmth that was so delicious and tempting and just made Harry want to go back to sleep all over again. He dimly thought he should enquire as to what Heating Charms Mrs Weasley used, and start using them on his own miserably cold bed back in Romania.

"I did not know zey were involved, Bill," he heard Fleur say not so quietly, but wasn't awake enough to wonder who she meant; his eyes were slowly sliding shut again.

"They're not."

"Non?"

"Non," came a slightly teasing, slightly affectionate repeat.

"Non," Harry mumbled to himself. Cute word, that…

"Billy…?" A rough, raspy voice suddenly yawned. "Time's it?"

"Early enough. Around nine, I think."

"Huh. Breakfast?"

"Molly eez working on it."

"Neat." Harry dimly wondered why the flat surface he was resting against rumbled and felt so warm. "Pansy?" that same — rather sexy, really — voice said and someone gently shook his shoulder.

"M'not Pansy…m'arry…"

Someone laughed and they weren't alone. The woman sounded really beautiful when she laughed. "Well, then, Harry, how about you get up?"

"I'm sleepy."

"The way you two were talking last night, I'm not surprised," Bill continued wryly.

Harry frowned. Two? Last night? Harry slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus on whatever it was that was right in front of him and looked suspiciously much like skin, with an abundance of freckles. He ran a hand over it in a decidedly leisure manner. Oh. A pretty fit masculine chest. A rather familiar one at that… "Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"You've got tons of freckles here."

Charlie stretched and shifted under him. Harry lay still, rubbing the liberated spotted skin. "It's hot."

"You flatter me, Harry."

"Well," Harry said tiredly, thickly, "you're definitely worth it… Breakfast?" he asked hopefully as he rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Not that he could see much anyway without his glasses on. "I forgot to water my plant."

"It's been dead for weeks, Harry."

Harry glared and crossed his arms, but didn't look away. "No, it's not. They look like that."

"Dead, you mean?"

Harry yawned. "You don't even have a fish in your bowl, Charlie. I'm at least making an effort."

"A _wasted_ effort."

"Shut up."

"Wonderful comeback, as usual…"

Harry glowered, then muttered, "_shut up_."

* * *

Having left three days after Graduation, Harry hadn't really seen any of the Weasleys since June and now December was almost over. There had been no Ron or Hermione, dorm mates, no Ginny… Just Romania and teammates and Charlie every once in a while – and he had never really _known_ Charlie before running off to Romania to make an attempt at living. So he thought it would hurt more, would come as more of a surprise than it did, but right then Harry just felt detached.

"—and I really like him, and we have fun and he makes me smile, you know?"

Harry nodded, mind still stuck somewhere on why he wasn't surprised.

Ginny smiled sadly. "You disappeared, Harry. I wasn't going to wait forever."

"No, no…that's not it… I'm…glad, actually. And I'm sorry, for being a coward." Ginny looked sceptical, so Harry thoughtlessly blurted, "I think I'm bisexual."

Ginny blinked.

Swallowing, his throat uncomfortably dry, Harry nodded, blotches of red on his cheeks. "Right." Then he whirled around and fled the kitchen.

* * *

"Charlie," Harry cried, panicked and almost scandalised, "I told her I was _bisexual_! My ex-girlfriend!"

Charlie didn't have much to say about that, but Harry took comfort in the fact that Charlie still had an arm around him – that they were still hugging, sort of… Leaning against each other in a completely manly, masculine way. Well, it was actually Harry who was doing most of the leaning, but Harry reckoned that since Charlie didn't exactly _refuse _to let him, then it was perfectly reasonable and all right.

"Are you?"

Harry stilled, and he sucked on his bottom lip as he mulled it over. "…I don't know. I mean. I've…slept with men and stuff, but…anyone can do that, really…"

"True." A brief squeeze of his arm. "It's the falling in love part that matters, right? If you can actually see past what sex someone has enough in order to give all that unconditional love."

"Huh."

Charlie winked before he added, "Dragon Keepers tend to be a bit more pragmatic than your average dull, dimwitted Quidditch player."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up."

* * *

Wrapped up in a thick, fluffy bathrobe, Harry cradled a cup of tea in his hands. Eyelids drooping down over somewhat alert eyes, he sighed. He really, really liked Charlie's place. His own cottage had been more of a necessity, and as a direct consequence it wasn't particularly homely or inviting at all, unlike but Charlie's. Charlie's quaint little cottage was perfect. It was one and a half floors. Most of everything was on ground level, but the bedroom was on the first floor. It didn't take up the whole area, though, which meant Charlie had a balcony.

Harry was in love with it.

"You should have plants, here," Harry murmured as he heard the door behind him open and close.

Charlie chuckled. "I tried. They died."

"Poetic." Charlie shook his head. He wrapped an arm briefly around Harry's shoulders before he leaned forwards, with elbows resting on the railing as he gazed out at the thick forest and the glimmering river far out in the distance, by the horizon. "Who's Jules?"

"Workmate."

"His toothbrush—"

"Yeah, I know. Him and his wife argue a lot."

"Oh."

"Mmmm."

Harry nodded slightly. He contently sipped his tea and gazed out at the forest. "Bill Floo called by the way."

"Yeah?"

"Said something about a birthday?"

Charlie blinked; he looked somewhat confused as Harry curiously met his eyes. "There are too many of us," he muttered after a while

"Hmmm?"

"It's probably the twins."

Harry turned to lean his hip against the railing. He bit his lip, the cup of tea held close against his chest. "Five years on the same team and I never knew their birthday. Do you have dinners, or…?" He took a slow sip, green eyes fastened intently on Charlie's.

"Want me to escort you again, Harry?"

Harry grinned. "Would you?"

* * *

It was another lazy morning, a week or so later, when Harry, once again dressed in the ridiculously comfortable bathrobe, hair an absolute mess, opened the front door. Harry blinked, squinting slightly, and then he exclaimed, "Bill! Right?" His eyes squinted further. "I forgot my glasses on the sink…"

"Right." Bill nodded as he clasped hands with Harry before moving inside. "Morning, Harry. Where would my brother be?"

"In the shower. I think. He threw me out of there," Harry mumbled through a yawn, "so he had better be in the shower. Tea?"

"Sure." And Harry nodded before stumbling off, one hand stretched out in front of him as a precaution should he accidentally walk into something. "How blind are you?" Bill asked curiously.

"Blind," Harry answered dryly. "I see blurs, but that's it. I've been told that, _maybe_, next year I can look into having my sight corrected. If they've matured enough, or something. Bloody Healers and their gibberish. You're a long way from Egypt."

"Mmmm. You're a long way from…wherever you're from, too."

"But considerably closer," Harry felt obliged to point out. He smiled, then set about preparing tea. The fact that he didn't have his glasses on and still could do it with success was testament enough that he really spent far too much time at Charlie's than he should.

But Harry really loved Charlie's balcony.

"Oh!" Harry suddenly exclaimed as he set the kettle down on the hob. "D'you want breakfast, by the way?"

"Yeah, Billy, stay," Charlie called from another room, "Harry puts Mum's pancakes to shame. Harry!"

"Yeah?"

"Where's my—?"

"Bedside table, I think. Get my glasses, too, would you? They're on the sink in the bathroom?"

* * *

**Edited **14/3-08

TBC.


	2. Dragons and Changes

**Warnings: **There's a vampire. Beware. Otherwise, what I wrote last time still stands.

I would like to thank Gabe Artisan for being my beta and just generally absolutely brilliant.

**Dragons and Changes. 2/3  
**

* * *

"Woah..."

Harry breathed out slowly, awed, and stepped away from under Charlie's arm, draped around Harry's shoulders, spinning leisurely on the rocky mountain slide. Around them, moss covering the ground in patches of dark green; its soft texture juxtaposed sharply with the hard terrain of rock and dirt. The moss even coloured the lake in the distance with a thin layer of green. Above them, dragons soared and roared in a sky that seemed too blue to be allowed. Harry grinned brightly. "This is brilliant, mate..."

"Which is precisely why I love it so dearly, my Harry." Charlie winked, clasping Harry's shoulder briefly. "Did you bring your broom?"

Pink peppered Harry's cheeks. He nodded and pulled something tiny out of his pocket. With a snap of his fingers, the object expanded and lengthened to its original size, revealing to be a broom.

"Show off," Charlie muttered and Harry smirked coyly. Grabbing the broom from Harry, he mounted it, then gesticulated for Harry to get on behind him. "Come on, then, Dragonfly."

"_Dragonfly_," Harry grimaced. "Are you daft, Weasley?"

"Not really, Potter. _I _am clearly the dragon here, and when you fly..." Charlie trailed off, lips pursed slightly and eyes somewhat unfocused.

Harry huffed and threw one leg over the broom. He wrapped his arms around Charlie's waist and scooted closer to him. The broom jerked as Charlie expertly brought them up, up, up, soaring through the skies. Harry soon found himself regretting that he sat so close to a man he was very attracted to. But by then it was too late; the dragons had noticed them. And to full-grown dragons, they looked like a tasty treat.

* * *

"... and this, Harry," Charlie finished, with a sweeping gesture of his hand, "is Jules."

"Ah." Harry smiled. "The elusive owner of the toothbrush."

Jules grinned. "Ze bazrobe eez yours, zen?"

"Oh, yes." Harry nodded. "And don't you dare touch it!" Jules laughed loudly at that, gave Harry a friendly thump on the shoulder and moved away.

"I will try to restrain myself, Potter. Charlie, ze Doctor wants to see you." Charlie's eyes landed on Jules neck, and he raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Charlie," Jules said. "Do you 'ave a band-aid? Ze Doctor was most…forgetful."

Charlie nodded, "mm, sure."

"Doctor? Band-aid?"

Charlie attempted to look morose as he dug out a band**-**aid from a pouch hanging from his belt. "The boss."

Jules accepted the band-aid with a nod of thanks. Pulling his collar back, he placed it over a wound of some kind that Harry wasn't completely familiar with. "Vampire bite."

Harry whistled softly. It made sense, in a way, to have a Healer of some kind as a boss at a Dragon Reserve. The sheer amount of injuries and accidents...Yes, a very logical decision indeed. He blinked, suddenly making the connection between the strange wound and the word 'vampire'. Vampire bite? "Why Doctor? That's—"

"Muggle? Yeah, but it sounds cooler and more exotic to wizards." Charlie winked. "The Doctor also happens to be a vampire—" Harry blinked again, eyes wide as he stared at Jules, his neck and the bite and he wasn't sure if he liked, or even felt the least bit comfortable with the implication, "—but that's besides the point. Just make sure not to expose your pretty little neck too much." Charlie slowly dragged a finger down the pale length of Harry's throat, and Harry, much to his own displeasure, coloured again. "You may have to mind your eyes, though. I hear he has a particular affinity for boys with beautiful eyes."

"I do indeed, yes, Charlie," drawled an attractive, melodious voice, and a pale hand appeared on Charlie's shoulder. "But I much prefer the freckles of your kind."

The man that stepped out from behind Charlie appeared seemingly out of nowhere, because beyond the hand and the voice Harry hadn't really noticed him; the vampire. Harry wasn't sure, but he got the distinct feeling that he had been there all along, hiding behind Charlie. Harry swallowed and took a step back the moment their eyes met, the intense blackness of his eyes taking Harry by surprise and he swallowed, hard. _This must be the Doctor, _Harry thought. _The vampire. _But for a vampire, he lacked a certain intimidation. Harry had expected something…_more_. Something glamorous, intimidating... impressive. Certainly not this — not this average, decidedly ordinary man.

The Doctor efficiently tied his hair back in a low ponytail. He smirked faintly, gently. "Though I fear the days of your body being willing and available are far gone, by now." He squeezed Charlie's shoulder and slowly raised an eyebrow.

Harry frowned. He inhaled, as if to say something, but before he could form words, he found himself guided backwards by the Doctor until he found himself standing up against a tree, head pushed back and throat exposed almost painfully. Harry automatically went for his wand. "What the—"

Harry frowned, and made to say something. Before he could utter a word, however, the vampire was in front of him, staring into his eyes with a serious expression on his face and Harry felt momentarily calmed. But only momentarily; the Doctor brought a slender hand to Harry's cheek and tilted his head slightly to the side. He hummed and clucked his tongue as his gaze swept over Harry's face only to focus on Harry's neck. The combination of the Doctor being a vampire, Harry suddenly having so much of his throat exposed and the Doctor staring so intently and directly at his bare throat, unnerved Harry tremendously. "Uhh... Charlie?"

He felt silly, calling out to Charlie. After all, Harry had defeated Lord Voldemort, survived insurmountable odds even before he was old enough to walk. Harry could defend himself, was almost too used to it. If there ever was a situation that called for self-defence, having a vampire stare at your exposed neck certainly qualified as one. But there was something about the vampire's touch, his demeanour, his poise that made him hesitate and instead call out for Charlie. The black eyes weren't those of a hungry vampire looking for a tasty treat; they were the eyes of... a doctor. A Healer. Harry wasn't being sized-up for dinner; he was being examined.

"I will not hurt you, young Harry. Charlie will give you his word on that."

Harry looked at Charlie, who, looking a bit weary, nodded but not very surprised. "Why don't you ever just ask, Doctor? Harry would have agreed if you did, you know."

The Doctor blinked. Then he pursed his lips and his eyes twinkled slightly. Mischievously. He winked at Harry and Harry slowly blinked back. "Oh, yes. That... I forget myself. It was long since I last had to explain myself, young Harry. Most here are so used to my straightforwardness here that asking has become redundant." He looked Harry in the eyes and scrunched his nose. "Do forgive me," he said, removing his hand from Harry's cheek. "I get ahead of myself, sometimes." The vampire nodded. "Yes, you are correct, my Charlie. I should have asked."

The Doctor leaned closer, dragging his nose along Harry's throat, breathing in deeply and muttering something to himself in a language Harry didn't recognise. "Blood tells stories, young Harry. Did you know that?"

Harry swallowed hard again and noticed that the vampire's eyes darted to his Adam's apple as it jerked and settled. "Uhm..."

"Yes," the Doctor continued, as if Harry hadn't uttered a sound, his eyes continuing their slow perlustration. "Your blood has many stories to tell." Harry glanced at Charlie again, but Charlie, while looking distinctly uncomfortable, merely nodded again.

"Am I missing something here?" Harry finally said. "Because it sure feels like it."

The talk of blood bothered him. Voldemort used Harry's blood in ways that bordered on the obscene, unnatural. It was Dark Magic and it had... Harry clamped his lips together, refusing to follow that line of thought through. Harry had promised himself that he would never let that happen again; and yet, there he stood, in the middle of a dragon preserve, with a vampire attached to the neck about to suck the blood out of him, as if it was a normal, everyday occurrence. Oh, yes — he was _definitely_ missing something.

The Doctor laughed throatily and released him, though he kept one hand on Harry's shoulder, almost possessively. "In a manner of speaking, young Harry. Yes, you are." He laughed again. "I require a blood sample. For professional purposes, I assure you."

"Oh, well that sounds harmless enough," Harry said, rolling up his sleeve.

The Doctor coughed; Jules covered his smile with his free hand, while the other one reached up to his neck; and Charlie let out a bark of a laugh, though he tried to cover it up as a cough.

"What-?" Harry demanded, looking back and forth between the three of them: Charlie, Jules, and the Doctor. Jules fingered his band-aid and Harry's eyes widened. He took a hurried step back from the vampire, clasping his hand over his throat. "Oh, no. No, no no no..."

"This is how we — I — perform my examinations. Isn't that so, my Charlie?"

"Yeah," Charlie muttered. "Sure. It's no big deal, Dragonfly."

"It eez how ze Doctor examined me, Harry," Jules said, pointing to the band-aid on his neck.

"It is completely harmless, Harry," the Doctor said, taking a step towards Harry.

Harry shook his head and thrust his arm out. "I have veins—"

The Doctor nodded. "You do. However, the closer to the heart, more precise the results. Also…it is more…unpleasant, I have been told. Unpleasant and undignified. No, Harry, I simply must insist on drawing blood from your neck. It is safer."

"No…no," Harry shook his head. "I can't, I—"

"Charlie, hold his hand?"

"I'm not a kid!" He at once bustled, his Gryffindor pride wounded. In an act of defiant courage, he tilted his head further back. "Do it."

Harry expected the vampire to look hungry, to lick his lips, to tremble and quiver as though he couldn't get to Harry's throat fast enough. As if he thought of Harry like Harry thought of…Chocolate Frogs or strawberries. But the Doctor's expression remained curiously blank. It reminded Harry of the last Healer that had examined him back at St Mungo's — purely professional and clinically distant. He half expected the Doctor to suddenly swab his neck with an anti-bacteria gel or something to stave off unwanted infections, like the Healers and Muggle doctors did when it came to needles.

Harry didn't necessarily trust the Doctor, even as he acquiesced and tilted his head back for the examination, but he trusted Charlie. If Charlie said it was okay, then Harry knew it was okay. He'd allow the exam like the rest of the Dragon Keepers. But he didn't have to enjoy it.

But when the vampire's hot lips brushed the skin at the crook of Harry's neck, 'enjoy' was the best way to describe it. Harry's eyes fluttered as the Doctor's teeth grazed against Harry's bare skin at the crook of his neck. And when those same teeth sank ever-so-slowly into Harry's flesh, just above his aorta, Harry hissed, though there was no pain, only a heat rushing through his body, down his spine and straight towards his crotch. He moaned, fighting to keep his eyes open.

The Doctor had been right — the exam really wasn't terribly unpleasant. The vampire's hand rested on his shoulder, keeping him steady, and Harry raised one of his own, clenching his fingers in the Doctor's hair. Harry wasn't sure when he'd done that, only that he needed to hold on to something — anything — before his knees gave out on him. No doubt about it, Harry was aroused.

As quickly as it started, the exam was finished and the Doctor's too-close proximity gone in an instant. Harry stood, eyes closed, mouth agape, swaying as if buffeted by the wind.

"Harry?"

Charlie's voice snapped Harry out of his reverie. "Huh, wuzzat?"

"Ze exam is over," Jules said, unable to hide the amusement from his voice.

The vampire smacked his lips as if he had just had a taste of fine wine and was trying to ascertain its quality. "Most delicious indeed, precious Harry. Charlie!"

"Yes, Doctor," Charlie said quite stiffly; Harry thought he sounded quite strained.

"Skele-Gro, Essence of Nutriment, and Strengthening Solution — the violet one, not the one with salamander blood. Oh, and Tissue Repairer. Ah, and also something for the boy's headache. Tomorrow, I shall have a look at his eyes."

"You were actually checking my vitals?" Harry murmured. "That's what you meant by 'telling stories'?"

The Doctor smiled kindly. "Indeed I was, Harry. Just like we told you. Close your eyes, now. I shall make sure the potions go down the right way, and I will have Charlie Levitate you into his pavilion."

Harry nodded, suddenly very tired.

-x-

The next morning, Harry woke in bed with the sun beating down on his face and Charlie breathing deeply in his ear. Sweaty and hot, Harry began shifting almost immediately. The jostling woke Charlie, who swore under his breath and clamped an arm around Harry's waist.

"Bed rest," he croaked. "The Doctor ordered it. Let the potions work."

"I know," Harry yawned, and then pushed at Charlie again. "But it's too hot... move."

"Don't really wanna." Charlie moaned, but he acquiesced.

"Yesterday, the Doctor... Was that the one you slept with?"

Charlie nodded, rubbing his eyes. "He's far more alluring than a Veela, if you ask me. Damned hard to say no to. Pretty fit, too."

Harry snorted. "I won't argue you there. I... God, that was utterly bizarre. I thought only humans could... How did he become a Healer?"

"Same as all the others, only a hundred years back or so. He was human then, from what we've been able to tell." Charlie shrugged. "Doesn't really talk much about his past, and we don't really care. He's good at what he does, and he keeps us alive. That's really all we ask, you know?"

Harry nodded, eyes drooping. "Yeah, I know. What's wrong with my eyes?"

"He reckons they were cursed when You-Know-Who tired to kill you. The scar is awfully close to your eyes."

"Oh..."

* * *

Harry was a bit wary when he and Charlie stepped inside the Doctor's colourful pavilion and. He removed his shoes and placed them outside. His bare toes sank down in the thick carpet covering the ground. It struck him once again how homely the Dragon Keepers made their large circular tents: colourful and comfortable, and thoroughly reflecting its inhabitant perfectly. Charlie had once said that being a Dragon Keeper was a little bit like being a nomad: moving with their 'cattle', adapting with them, never staying in the same place for very long, living in a suitcase, never having more than you could easily carry on a broom.

But what was true for Charlie didn't seem true for the Doctor. His tent was far more cluttered than the average Keeper's tent: pillows, sturdy paper rugs alternated with softer, woven carpets and wooden screens dominated the spacious area. In the centre of the pavilion, there were backrests visible jutting up above the books that spilled out on the ground, hiding somewhere under the mountains of books and scrolls surrounding what might be a smaller table. It was similarly hidden by various trinkets and torn pieces of parchment, most of which were covered with symbols and a flowing script Harry didn't recognise. He almost wondered where the Doctor ate before he remembered why, exactly, his neck stung like it had. There was no sleeping area immediately visible, but there were a few private spaces cleverly created by the intricately carved wooden screens, the holes filled with white paper along the walls.

"How are you this morning, Harry?"

Harry smiled, although it didn't reach his ears. "Tired, Doctor." The Doctor raised an eyebrow, and Harry rubbed his neck. "Sore, too."

"Expected, yes. Sit, please!" the vampire said, with a smile.

Slowly, he sank down on a pile of colourful cushions in a corner, set off from the rest of the room by a screen-divider. It was a remarkably uncluttered area, Harry thought, as there were no scrolls or books or ink-stains parchments littering the cushions. Only a crate squashed between the tent wall and the cushions held a smaller pile of books — and a candle. Harry obediently tilted his head back and blinked owlishly when the Doctor removed his glasses.

"I do not believe this will hurt, but I have been wrong on several occasions. My perception of pain tends to differ vastly from a human's."

"Oh yeah, he _certainly _has been wrong before," Charlie said, crossing his arms over his chest and pursing his lips.

The Doctor gave Charlie a pointed look. "_That_ was not my fault."

"Sure it wasn't." Charlie muttered and looked away, rubbing a burn-scar on his arm.

Harry shifted, wondering if he should simply stand up and walk away, when the vampire fixed him with a glare. For a moment, he was uncannily reminded of Madame Pomfrey, and he swallowed hard.

"None of that nonsense, young Harry. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded with a single, quick jerk and began breathing deeply, steadily, almost as if he were Occluding; even as a child, Harry had found that simply breathing helped him _not _think about how much something hurt.

"Breathing techniques? Clever child," the Doctor whispered.

A glowing orb formed in the air above Harry's eyes, still opened wide.

"Hmmm..." the Doctor muttered, and then Harry's eyes began to hurt. A lot.

After several long agonising minutes, which felt like hoursto Harry, the Doctor snapped his fingers and the circle disappeared, as did the pain; only a dull ache behind his eyes remained.

"Well?" Charlie demanded, holding tightly on to Harry's hand.

Harry dimly wondered when Charlie had moved to sit next to him, or how the man had known that it had hurt that badly. Harry was pretty confident he hadn't screamed.

"I think, my Charlie, that you are very lucky to have a Curse Breaker for a brother." The Doctor wiped his hands on a cloth, then added, "I would very much like to see him."

"I bet," Charlie muttered.

The Doctor smiled predatorily, then said with a silky timbre in his voice, "What was that, Charlie?"

"Billy's married, you know?"

* * *

Harry woke up slowly. At first, he was just aware of the thoughts jumbled in his head, but then also of the Doctor. Harry found himself blinking owlishly at him as he waved his wand over Harry's face, muttering spells and incantations in a language decidedly not Latin.

It had already been a week, Harry mused; his head pounded, and his eyes felt strange: teary, sore. Even the dull light in the Doctor's tent seemed far too bright.

Bill had come, just like the Doctor said he would — Harry briefly wondered what history those two had that would make the vampire so sure that Bill would come — and Fleur came along with him. It had been nice, seeing her again.

The Doctor had laid out his theories and assumptions, and Bill looked thoroughly sceptical. He had said, 'I blew up a skull once, you know? There was a cursed jewel embedded at the back of it.' Harry was doing dishes at the time; a plate shattered in his hand — the result of shock at Bill's admission. The Doctor smiled and said that he was sure this wouldn't happen.

'Don't worry, Harry,' the vampire said, 'you don't have a jewel embedded in the back of your skull.'

That hardly made Harry feel any better. So Harry scowled and stalked off; he spent the rest of his day helping Charlie supervise the baby-dragons.

Two days later Bill woke him up, bright and early, and delivered what had to be the shortest lecture on animate-versus-inanimate-Curse-Breaking he had ever heard. Not that Harry had heard many lectures on Curse Breaking of _any_ sort, save the occasional lecture from Hermione. Biting his lip, Harry could only nod curtly. 'If you're sure you won't blow me to pieces,' he muttered.

The fact that he was currently lying on soft cushions and actually seeing the ceiling above him was a testament that Bill had, indeed, known — to a certain extent — what he was doing.

"Doc—"

"Shhh."

Harry clamped his lips together, and tilted his head back. Charlie's ceiling wasn't that remarkable, but the Doctor's... He had bewitched the ceiling to look like a clear night sky, reminding Harry, with a pang of guilt and sorrow, of the Great Hall. The stars were the only source of light in the tent, along with a few candles that were scattered around the place, floating mid air. He couldn't find any constellation that he recognised, but it was still mesmerising nonetheless. A finger under his chin, and Harry automatically tilted back his head further, felt warm breath and soft lips on his throat, then hissed and clamped a hand down on the Doctor's shoulder. A second later, it was finished — another exam. Hopefully the last one, but knowing himself and how accident-prone he was it was probably not very likely.

The Doctor licked his lips, frowning slightly with thought and then nodded, apparently satisfied. "Dear Bill appears to have been successful. I cannot detect any traces of the curse."

"I can see."

"That was the purpose of this endeavour, was it not, young Harry?"

Harry nodded, cautiously fingering his neck and the fresh prick marks. His hand was swatted away, and the Doctor placed a Muggle band-aid over it.

"I fear the bite of a vampire is too magical for ordinary Healing spells to work. Fortunately, it is hardly going to kill you."

"Sure about that?"

The Doctor laughed, and Harry smiled.

"Why aren't more vampires Healers? I mean, if you can tell so much simply by tasting blood—"

The vampire raised an eyebrow, then smiled in a way Harry knew at once was meant to intimidate, because, for the first time, Harry was aware of the sharp teeth — could see them very clearly when he never had before. "I take it you have not forgotten your own reaction, not so long ago?"

Harry bit his lip and nodded, cautiously sitting up and accepting the helping hand until he was sure he would not fall back down on the cushions. His head was pounding. He shivered, and then realised that he was shirtless. At once, he began looking for it, scanning the room for his shirt.

"Yeah," he said. "But… I mean, you were — you could have used a different approach, you know."

"I suppose." The Doctor handed Harry his shirt and then a vial containing a potion. "For your headache."

"Thanks. I mean, now that I know you…know what it was about with the—" he fingered his neck briefly, "—bite and all, well... I feel a bit daft, not trusting you. And really, thank you for..." he waved a hand in front of his face, "...for fixing my sight."

"That was my job, young Harry," the vampire said, with a matter-of-fact tone. "There will always be a fear in humans of being killed, or turned against their will — too much history, I am afraid. History and bad blood between vampires and non-vampires — but perhaps in the future, that will change."

Harry found himself hoping 'the future' would come sooner, rather than later. He remembered Remus and the fear and hatred that had followed him through his life. He remembered how angry he himself had been when he found out that because Remus was a werewolf, parents — and most of the students — wouldn't want him teaching at Hogwarts. It didn't matter that Remus had been the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they had ever had.

"Charlie is very fond of you, Harry," the Doctor said, startling Harry out of his reverie.

"Yeah, I guess." Harry flushed slightly, knowing that he was a fair bit more than _fond _of Charlie.

The Doctor laughed. "I hope you will not take him from me."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I value him, Harry. He is a very skilled Dragon Keeper, and our way of life greatly agrees with him. He would be very... unhappy if he were forced to choose. I have seen it happen on many occasions, and I have never liked it."

At that, Harry snorted and shook his head, very cautiously slipping his shirt on. The headache was gone, thanks to the potion, and he felt confident that he could move without giving himself a migraine. "Do you know who I am?"

"Why, yes. Harry Potter. The wizarding world's saviour. The Boy-Who-Lived."

"My life officially began after I killed Voldemort. I didn't _have _choices until then. Do you really think I'd—"

"No, I do not. But it pleases me much to hear it. Makes it...easier to believe, once you have the memory of it." The Doctor smiled without humour. "I am sure you agree."

Suddenly very thoughtful, Harry nodded and didn't even protest when the Doctor placed a cool hand on his chest and eased him down onto the downy pillows once again. It didn't take long for sleep to claim him.

The next time Harry woke, mere hours shy of dawn, he rested on slightly scratchier pillows in Charlie's pavilion, with a clearly Molly-made quilt covering him. Charlie slept a scant distance away, barely the breadth of his hand. Heavy-lidded eyes took in Charlie and his expression, much more relaxed than usual. No, Harry thought, he would be a fool to force a man to stop doing something that so clearly made him happy.

Being Charlie Weasley meant being a Dragon Keeper; the one went hand-in-hand with the other, and if Harry took that away... Well, there wouldn't be a Charlie left, would there?

"Too handsome," Harry muttered, then fell back asleep. This time with a hand resting on Charlie's warm chest.

* * *

Several weeks later.

"... _and_ _'Arry Pûtter catchez zee Znitch!"_

Harry raised his hand in the air, his fist clutching the Snitch triumphantly; and suddenly, the crowd erupted into frenzy, roaring their approval the loudest Harry had ever heard. He looped around the stadium twice before his teammates caught up with him, diving down from all angles, clapping him on the back, grinning at him.

"Good one, Potter," the captain barked.

Harry smiled and nodded. "Thanks!"

Harry felt good, on top of his game again. It had been roughly two weeks now since the Doctor and Bill had fixed his eyes, and yet his coach had been in a bad mood, grumbling throughout practices. It was almost as if he didn't trust Harry's abilities — as if it were the glasses that caught the Snitch rather than Harry. But Harry no longer needed those glasses (and good riddance to them!), and today's victory — today's _very important_ victory — proved it.

* * *

"Mr Potter?"

The voice was soft, the English perfect and unbroken. Harry's curiosity piqued, and Harry came around the wall dividing the men's changing room from the women's. "Yeah?" There stood a plump man, wearing glasses and a strangely out of date Muggle suit.

"I am Bartholomeos Askyew of the National Quidditch Committee," he said, by way of introduction, "and it recently came to our attention that a certain Seeker in the Eastern Europe Quidditch League was a rising star."

Harry frowned slightly, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I guess."

"Excellent. After today's most spectacular and unique capture of the ever-elusive Snitch, I feel even more confident in our... decision." He smiled a feral smile that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end.

"Decision? What decision? Who are you?"

"Mr Potter, I'm about to make you an offer that you simply will not be able to refuse."

* * *

Until next time, dears.


	3. Settling and Changes

Is _this _a bit more to your liking, Mharie? ;) I don't suppose you'd honestly believe that I'd forgotten entirely that I hadn't posted the final chapter until just now?

**Warnings**: Same as usual. A bit more heavy, direct innuendo, a bit more vampireism.

**Settling and Changes. 3/3**

**

* * *

**The front door slammed open as Harry eagerly whirled inside. "Charlie!" he cried "God, Charlie! You have to—!" The exclamations prompted Charlie to step out of the kitchen – which he did just in time for Harry to run into him and propel them both to the ground.

"Ugh," Charlie groaned. His back and shoulders took the brunt of the fall and for a moment it felt like he couldn't breathe. But Harry was on top of him and he was saying something but Charlie couldn't really hear what as the words all jumbled together. Bemused, he brought his hands up and rested them lightly on Harry's hips. "Harry?"

The words stopped temporarily as Harry blinked. Harry shook his head, green eyes sparkling. There was a large utterly proud and ridiculous grin on his face. "They want me on the team," he whispered, voice hoarse and husky. "_The_ _team_, Charlie: England wants me on their _national team_!" He leaned down, close enough for his hair to tickle Charlie's face. Charlie was by now grinning just as widely as Harry. "Can you believe it? Me, on the team, with all those—"

"—Talented, professional players?" Charlie cut in cheekily. His eyes danced with an inner light. Harry laughed and nodded, so Charlie went on, "Players like you?"

"I…I never thought… You know? I mean, I came here to try and make a living for myself, and now," Harry whispered, not quite sure what he wanted to convey to Charlie. Charlie seemed to understand, though, because his smile toned down a bit and the hands on his hips began rubbing in small circles. Harry found that to be incredibly soothing. "I'm Pansy Potter who keeps falling off the broom during team practice–"

"–and catches the Snitch more times than any other English Seeker currently about, whose Wronski Feint is inhuman and bloody impossible to copy? Whose agility and instinctual, innate ability to fly is out of this world, whose intuition is borderline _psychic,_" Charlie impishly continued, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument but at the same time completely earnest. "You deserve it, Harry. Congratulations," he said seriously.

The lump that formed in his throat at the sudden seriousness in his friend threw Harry off a bit. "Thank you," he answered, not really knowing what else to say. "I guess I just always thought of myself as one of the team. Just another Seeker, you know? But…this…this means I'm like Krum, doesn't it?"

"It does, doesn't it?" Charlie's grip on Harry's hips tightened and Harry unconsciously wet his lips. "Youngest in a century, wasn't that it?"

Harry nodded, his fingers – that he only just now realised were clenched tightly around fistfuls of Charlie's loose, worn cardigan – slowly loosened their grip. His hands moved up, then, almost on their own towards a new destination: Charlie's hair. He began tugging gently at the rough and silky hair almost unconsciously. "Mmmm. Oliver was ecstatic that your replacement was so…adequate."

"You were more than 'adequate'."

"I was eleven; I can't have been."

"Well, either way, you are now." Harry nodded a little. His eyes flickered from Charlie's eyes to Charlie's chapped lips and he was at once uncomfortably aware of how close they were, how Charlie's breath ghosted against his lips and how strong and pleasantly warm the grip Charlie had of his hips was.

"Harry–"

"This is okay, right? This…it's okay, isn't it?" Harry mumbled, dimly aware that he leaned even closer. One hand tightened its grip further while Charlie's other came up the grip his neck.

"…define 'this', Harry…"

* * *

He'd slept in Charlie's bed before – of course he had! – but not like this. Never like this. Never naked, never with their legs tangled, never woken slowly, hazy and sated and smiling. Never wriggled closer to breathe in the smell of Charlie's neck or leisurely stroked his hand up and down the broad, freckled chest. Never had those muscled arms come up to wrap around him and tug him closer. Never had sleepy, warm kisses pressed to the side of his face and neck.

Never felt so incredibly warm and wanted ever before in all his life.

"Morning, Harry."

"Mmmm," Harry mumbled as he pressed himself closer, mouth curling into a smile.

* * *

Harry stretched out on a garden chair. His toes burrowed in the lush grass and he wiggled them. The warm sun beat down on his face and Harry couldn't help but smile; he had missed the Burrow. Perhaps not as much as last time – not with the way his and Charlie's relationship had progressed and blossomed – but the Burrow was home in a sense Hogwarts had never been. The Burrow was friendly Weasleys, playfulness and mothering.

"Harry?"

Harry stirred lazily and cracked an eye open to glance at Ginny. "Mmm?" Then he blinked and hurriedly stood up, a smile on his face. "Congratulations on Graduating, Ginny." He gave her a friendly hug.

Ginny hesitantly returned it, and then they stepped apart. "Thank you, Harry."

"How did your N.E.W.T.s go?"

"Okay, I think." She shrugged. "Listen, Harry–" The opening of the backdoor interrupted her and they both turned around to see a young man with fair brown hair wearing a neat robe step outside.

"Ginny?"

Whoever it was, he seemed torn between awe and jealousy as he headed straight for her and grabbed her hand. Harry frowned, and then he pursed his lips. He couldn't be jealous – he shared a bed with her brother, but…he felt something twist in his chest at the sight of someone else holding her hand. He tried to shake the feeling but wasn't altogether successful as his voice came out somewhat subdued as he said, "Why don't you introduce us, Ginny?"

"Sure," Her tone of voice matched his perfectly. "Harry, this is Randolph Burrow–"

"–Ran," he cut in. Ginny shot him a glare before continuing,

"–my boyfriend. _Ran_, this is Harry."

"Hi." Harry summoned a shaky smile and held out a hand. "Nice to meet you."

Ran narrowed his eyes and slowly reached out to shake his hand at about the same time as Ron and the Twins burst out of the Burrow's back door.

"The English National _team_?!" someone, probably Ron, exclaimed.

Harry grinned, his unease forgotten in a flash. "Oh, yes."

"Bloody hell, mate!"

Ginny gaped, eyes widening. "Merlin, Harry!"

"It's bloody unbelievable, isn't it?"

* * *

Harry stuck his tongue out as Charlie laughed at him. "Not that funny, mate," he muttered petulantly. "She was brandishing a spatula! She didn't even do that when I said I was going to Romania…"

Charlie chuckled, fingers gently tucking Harry's errant hair behind an ear. "Quidditch is dangerous. More and more the higher up you get, and being on _that _level is about as high up as you can get."

Harry nodded. His face heated slowly at the gentle sensation of fingers in his hair, so near his ear, and he knew he was probably looking horribly in love and stupid, by the way he was grinning. But being like this with Charlie, intimate and caring… It was still so new and caused a delirious rush within him that he never tired of. Besides, the light that danced in Charlie's eyes told of similar feelings. It made Harry feel strangely warm and deliriously happy all at once. "She gave me a hug, too. Once she calmed down a bit." Harry splayed a hand on Charlie's chest and pressed his fingertips down.

"Didn't smack you over the head, then?"

Harry burst out laughing. "She didn't!?"

Charlie shrugged, once. "Dragons _are _dangerous."

"True," Harry agreed and leaned up slightly from the pillows about the same time as Charlie turned his head. Harry sighed as that mouth, those lips touched his own…so warm, so–

"Why am I not even surprised?"

Charlie pulled his head back and winked at his brother, who had just come in through the door. "Because we went through such an ordeal being subtle, most likely, Billy."

Harry flopped down on the bed and blinked at the ceiling. "…please tell me we weren't that obvious… Do you know how much fun I made of Ron and Hermione for dancing around each other like that?"

"They danced for _six years_. That's–"

"Neither here, nor there," Bill said, smirking faintly. "When you tell Mum, I want to be there. As your oldest brother, that's my right."

"…Mrs Weasley?" Harry said weakly. "But–"

"She's my mum."

"But she just brandished a spatula at me!"

* * *

Stretching out on the grass, eyes closed and arms crossed under his head, Harry relaxed and allowed his mind to wander. It mostly strayed to Charlie and Harry felt himself smiling unconsciously every time as he remembered details, little, inconsequential details. How his hair felt: how it stuck out worse than Harry's own at odd angles in the mornings. How his lips were sort of chapped and rough, but how he still was the most gentle, softest kisser… How he still ruffled Harry's hair, as if he were a younger, troublesome brother, but one Charlie felt extremely affectionate towards and, well, attracted to and not very much like a brother at all. How they had the greatest time, fooling around and being all silly and playful, and how it didn't feel strained or like a serious relationship at all, even though it was. Serious, that is, because Harry had never quite felt this way about another person before.

He had been fond of Ginny, yes, cared for her and liked her and even now he couldn't deny that there was a residual jealousy towards her boyfriend, but…Charlie, Charlie made fire erupt in his stomach and coil outwards, heating his body, making his ears turn red and cause him to smile that stupid daft smile, eyes love-struck and bright. Harry knew, because Charlie looked like that when he looked at Harry, too, sometimes.

And the sex was really great.

"–so what do you think?"

Oh yes, Harry grinned, the sex was really, _really_ great. So what if there was an age difference of eight years? Charlie made him feel hot and wanted and _experienced_.Charlie said Harry made him feel hot and wanted and _young_. Harry thought that was kind of stupid, because Charlie wasn't old at all.

Someone yelled, "Harry!" and Harry started, flying up from the grass to sit in an upright position, eyes wide.

"What?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes but she was smiling. "Harry, Ron asked if you would consider dating Lavender."

Harry frowned. "Lavender?"

"Brown? She was in our year–"

"No." Harry shook his head. "No, I don't feel like it." He frowned slightly. "I don't really like dating…too awkward and orchestrated…"

"…then why were you grinning like your greatest dream had just come true?"

Harry blinked. "I was?"

"Yeah, mate."

"Oh. Well. I was just thinking about tomorrow." Harry grinned as Ron and Hermione both looked confused. "First practice with the National Team. Big Day."

* * *

Charlie didn't really spend much time at his cottage Harry realised halfway through September. Most of the days in the week he spent with his dragons and on the weekends… Sometimes he'd come and stay with Harry, who had by then moved in, or he'd Apparate over and bring Harry with him back. So what had once been Charlie's cottage, very briefly theirs, was now primarily Harry's. He wasn't sure he liked it and he also suddenly understood the Doctor and his apprehension as yet another one of his Keepers were on the verge of falling in love. Love did strange things to people, humans and Vampires alike. It was, Harry mused, a thoroughly unpredictable force.

* * *

"Charlie…" Harry slowly trailed a finger down Charlie's naked chest. He tried to find a pattern in the freckles but found himself incapable of doing so. Charlie grunted. "I…did you know the Doctor asked me not to take you away from him?"

Charlie stilled in a very disconcerting way, Harry thought. "Harry," he began, but Harry tapped him lightly on his chest.

"Wait, okay?" Harry frowned. "I…this is my first relationship, you know? I don't really count me and Ginny…we were too young and I was too caught up with other things, and, but…I guess when I told your boss that I'd never do that – make you choose…I was a bit naive. I had a major crush on you, back then. I didn't really know what I was agreeing to, and lately…I don't know, Charlie. A Dragon Keeper is what you are."

"What are you saying, Harry?" Charlie's voice was oddly subdued and he was lying very still.

Harry shrugged slowly, biting his lip. "I honestly don't know."

"This is one of my longer relationships, did you know? I never really get my hopes up because most of the people I've been with expect me to change for them and when I don't…they move on."

The fact that their relationship hadn't even lasted for that long yet made Charlie's statement even more wrong and depressing. Harry bit his lip. "I guess I can see that," he said cautiously. "In a way, I think that's it."

"Harry?" Charlie whispered.

"I don't see you enough. Sometimes it feels like we saw each other more before we started to have sex, you know?"

Charlie laughed a little at that and Harry smiled. He finally dared to relax when a familiar, welcome hand found its way to his hair. "Probably because we didn't know what we'd miss, Dragonfly."

Harry nodded slowly. "Probably," he repeated. Then, "I'm not housewife material, Charlie. I don't think I'll be able to wait around like this forever."

"I'm not asking you to."

"But you love me, right?" Harry hated how insecure his voice came out. Hated how he still was so starved for affection and love. Warmth. Wanting a family. Belonging somewhere; he reckoned he did that with Charlie.

"Yes, Harry, I do. Too much, probably."

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded. "Yeah, me too, I guess."

* * *

Outside, the snow was thick, covering the mountainside and the peaks, making it bright despite the darkness of December.

Inside, Harry was bent over the cooker, trying to assemble a fancy dinner worthy of a Weasley dinner party and Charlie's birthday. Charlie was helpful enough to lay the table and clean the cottage, but as far as actual cooking went he was a right disaster. Oh, he knew the basics and he could keep himself fed and properly sustained, but…fancy creations and dishes more complicated than pasta? Not so much.

* * *

Everyone had eaten and were well into drinks and the dessert, strawberry shortcake, when Ron ambled into the room, a slight frown on his face. "Harry, mate?"

"Yeah?"

"Why's your broom in the closet?"

Harry shrugged. There was an earnest, if a fair bit confused, look on his face as he licked his spoon clean. "Where else would it be?"

"No, that's not what I meant." Ron shook his head and slowly sat back down. "I mean, why isn't it at your place?"

"Yes," Hermione piped in, "and why did you cook?"

"Well, Charlie's pants at it and this place is ideal for flying…" _and I live here_, Harry mentally continued, exchanging a quick glance with Charlie. Fleur was looking absolutely delighted and Bill was chuckling quietly to himself. Harry frowned briefly at them before dismissing them entirely.

"I _bought _this pan for you." Hermione reached across the table and tapped the pan in question. The pan that had held a stir-fry at one point during the evening but was now empty. Harry realised that they really should have cleared the table.

Harry blinked. "Oh. Um. Charlie's is unable to function properly. And I needed two, anyway." He cringed almost immediately after he said it; it was such a horribly obvious and dysfunctional lie. Charlie's pan was, after all, sitting next to Harry's on the table.

"Harry," Charlie said and raised his eyebrows. Harry pursed his lips, but nodded even as he slumped down on his chair. "Okay?"

"Fine." Harry fingered the spoon in his hand as he shifted to sit straighter again. "Truth is…truth is I live here. I moved in, awhile ago. In… August?"

"Aug–but that's _four _months ago! Harry–"

"I didn't think it'd matter, all right? I mean, I play _Quidditch –_ why does it matter where I live?" Bill made a choking kind of noise. Charlie helpfully thumped him on the back. Harry swallowed. Right, he knew, didn't he? "All right, there, Bill?"

Concerned, Mrs Weasley put down her spoon. "But, Harry dear, surely you don't sleep on the couch?"

"No, Mrs Weasley," Harry said quietly. He squirmed slightly and suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He felt cornered. This wasn't how they had planned it. This wasn't how they wanted everyone to find out. Truth to be told, though, they hadn't actually discussed it at all, but Harry had a hard time figuring out worse ways for someone to come out as a couple, _and this certainly wasn't how he wanted it to come out!_

Being exposed by accidental, circumstantial evidence and lousy bad luck.

"Charlie," Harry said and stood, leaning over the table. "I think now would be a good time."

"Harry…"

Harry shook his head, mouth set and eyes narrowed. "I don't want it this way! I want to _at least _have chosen it." Even if there wasn't much choice left by now. "Um. Well, it's…Mr and Mrs Weasley, I, uh… Charlie?"

"We're dating," Charlie blurted casually, his ears characteristically bright Weasley-red. "That's why he's living here–"

"_Charlie Weasley_!"

"Come, now, Molly, dear–"

"No, Arthur," Mrs Weasley snapped. Harry sank down on his chair again. He studiously refused to meet anyone's eye. His face was just a fraction too pale, and he resorted to biting his lip. "Of all the irresponsible–!" she spluttered. "Harry is just a child!" Harry flinched. "You should know better, Charlie!"

"He's not a child, Mum."

"I'm not sure I ever was," Harry muttered quietly. "If anyone feels like it, there's some mulled wine and gingerbread cookies…" He bit his lip and then stood up again. He mumbled something about needing the loo before he fled the room.

"'Arry–!"

Harry slowed slightly, then squared his shoulders and rushed on, up the stairs and through the bedroom. He only paused long enough to put on the old shoes by the balcony door before stepping out on the snow covered balcony. The snow was thick and deep and his feet sank down completely.

Fleur, evidently much more versed in the magical world, simply brandished her wand and preformed a simple Heating Charm on the patio. The snow was efficiently vaporised and the chilled stone temporarily heated. 'Arry?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you are not. You are upset, correct?"

Harry shrugged stiffly, leaning heavily on the railing. "I didn't want it to come out like this. I wanted to tell you all on my own terms…maybe in the summer at the Burrow when it didn't matter… Not a little over a week before Christmas… Charlie and I hadn't even talked about it, y'know?"

"Non?"

Harry shook his head, voice devoid of emotions. "No. You and Bill dated for a year before you told anyone, didn't you?"

"Yes," Fleur admitted with a gentle smile. "But our relationship was…not so good, always. 'E distrusted my Veela in'eritance, and zat was complicating."

"Bill thought you were Charming him?" Fleur nodded, her smile changing into something akin to dry amusement and Harry at once got the feeling that there were Incidents and that they were Humorous. Harry flushed slowly as something else occurred to him, something about Veelas and charms and attraction. "Does sexual orientation…?" Harry trailed off.

"Oui."

_Oui_, Harry mouthed, blinking slowly. "…I never liked you that much. Not like Ron."

"Yes, 'Arry." Fleur nodded amiably. "Which eez why I liked you very much. 'Arry, Molly and Arthur are very 'onourable and–"

"I know." Harry pursed his lips. He breathed out heavily. "I just wasn't prepared; I think that's why I'm overreacting. I fancied that I had at least until summer to familiarise myself with Charlie, living here and…being in a…relationship. You know?" Fleur nodded, her pale arms wrapped round herself.

"Eet eez cold, 'Arry. Can we go back inside?"

"You go. Wait," Harry added just as she turned to do just that, "the purple box under the bed, it's for Bill, from Charlie. He said it was…appropriate given the current conditions?" To Harry's surprise Fleur's pale face reddened somewhat and a hand, most likely on its own, came to rest on her abdomen. Harry shook his head and bit his lip, sort of smiling. "I won't tell, but you should take the box."

At that, Fleur raised an eyebrow and placed her hands firmly on her hips. "'Arry?" she said demandingly.

Harry titled his head to the side, confused. "Oh! Congratulations, Fleur." And he hugged her warmly. "Guess I'm…happy for you?"

"_Merci beaucoup_," Fleur acknowledged with a slight bow and a gentle smile.

"Eh?"

"Zat eez 'zank you very much' in French."

"Oh." Harry grinned and then hissed something that came out garbled and thick and incomprehensible. "That's 'you're welcome' in Parseltongue."

Fleur rolled her eyes and muttered something in French under her breath.

* * *

Harry cautiously stepped back inside the kitchen behind Fleur. "Um. All right?" he asked. Charlie nodded slightly and waved him over. "Charlie?"

"Let's do this properly." He stood up and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Mum, Dad." He looked directly at them. Mr and Mrs Weasley both stared back at him and Harry had to quell an irrational urge to squirm. "This is my boyfriend, Harry, and we have been together since…" Charlie trailed off, his forehead crinkling as he thought. Harry looked away. He frowned and his lips moved soundlessly as he tried to figure it out, too.

"Honestly," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. Mrs Weasley shot her a sharp, reprimanding glare.

"…April?" Charlie eventually ventured.

Harry shook his head, making an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "May, I think."

Charlie nodded. "Right. We have been together since…May– you know, that doesn't feel right, Harry."

"Yeah…" Harry frowned. "Ron, when did I make the English team?"

Ron blinked. "Um. First of June, I think. Why, mate?"

Harry grinned. "No reason."

Charlie cleared his throat, then continued, "So, we've been together since the first of June–" the twins, along with Ron and Ginny, groaned while Hermione made an exasperated sound. Bill chuckled. Mr Weasley held a hand over his mouth and Mrs Weasley smiled encouragingly. Charlie glared petulantly and Harry crossed his arms. "–since the first of June…what am I doing?"

"You're doing it properly."

"Right." Charlie flashed Harry a brief smile and Harry returned it with a small one of his own. "Harry and I have been together since the first of June. Do you welcome him to the family as my boyfriend and friend?"

Mr Weasley nodded and Mrs Weasley smiled, her eyes suspiciously wet. "Of course we do, dear!"

"Yeah, mate," Ron muttered, "because it isn't like you've been part of the family since you were _eleven_…"

* * *

It was yet another night. Yet another lonely night spent in solitude… Harry really, really didn't like it. Charlie, he knew, kept busy all day long – flying and tending to whatever dragons that happened to be nearby, helping the newly hatched ones get their bearings straight and so on… But Harry, Harry had Quidditch four days a week: Wednesdays and the weekends off. The rest of the time dragged by, _slowly_

.

It was like he was new to Romania all over again, only this time he had tasted the Apple of Knowledge and knew exactly what he was missing out on.

* * *

"This isn't working," he said as Charlie Apparated inside the kitchen. Harry was leaning against the cooker and his arms were crossed over his chest.

Charlie's face fell. Then he just nodded and looked oddly resigned. Harry abruptly realised that the man had most likely come back far too many times, hearing those words – in different shapes but with the same meaning – to last him a lifetime.

"When you're here–" Harry had long stopped referring to the cottage as 'home' for Charlie, "­–it's great."

"Better," Charlie muttered. Harry nodded.

"So you see what the problem is, then?"

"I'm never here."

Harry smiled slightly. "But you are. I…I'm a decent cook, you know? And I don't have Quidditch all days of the week. I've been thinking, you see, and if the Doctor'd integrate me–" Harry never got to finish his sentence as Charlie tackled him to the floor, kissing him senseless and tugging at his clothes.

//

"Oh, God in Heaven," Harry panted, clutching at his chest weakly, face red and he felt utterly sated. "Fucking love you, Charlie, fucking love you…"

* * *

"This is most unusual," the Doctor murmured, but he _was_ smiling very slightly. Harry took that as a good sign.

Harry bit his lip and nodded. "I realise that. But is it possible? I mean, I'd help out, of course, and I obviously know how to fly. I'd stay with Charlie, and I could cook? I kinda like dragons, too, I guess, I just haven't really…studied them."

"The lifestyle of a Dragon Keeper is hardly glamourous."

Harry shrugged. "Living in a cupboard's not that brilliant either. I don't mind; I never have. Being happy, having a home, a family…that's all I ever wanted, and now I have Charlie, and…I don't want to lose him."

"Then we feel the same way, young Harry." Harry had to bite his lips hard to tone down the large grin that otherwise threatened to split his face. Because if that hadn't been the largest 'yes' then Harry didn't know what was. The Doctor took his hand and slowly brought it to his mouth. Harry blinked, but didn't say anything as he had grown used to the almost arrogant behaviour the Doctor displayed and therefore he barely started when one finger was pulled into a warm mouth, then bitten, only so that the Doctor could squeeze out a few drops of his blood on a round, smooth stone. Harry felt a bit confused as to where it had come from: if the Doctor had had it in his hand all along of it he had wordlessly Summoned it. "This is the Calling Device. It will alert you when we move, and when you want to find us, you focus on this stone and you will be pulled in. It is a very safe technique but as it requires the use of blood—"

"—mostly not in use, right?"

"Indeed." The Doctor smiled.

It also reminded Harry uncomfortably of Voldemort and his Dark Mark. Harry swiftly pushed that thought aside with a slight shake of his head. He raised his head and met the dark eyes of the vampire. The smile he summoned was small, but heartfelt. The smile that the Doctor returned Harry's with was shockingly, but perhaps not, similar.

"Thank you," he murmured, and then he impulsively hugged the Doctor. As he began to pull back, however, he found himself held firmly in position.

"Now," the vampire murmured, "if you do not mind, my Harry, I find myself slightly…hungry."

"Eh." Harry froze and swallowed deeply. "You…eat on your…employees?"

"Of course." Harry found it very unjust of the man to run his hand through Harry's hair like that. "With consent, naturally. It simplifies matters greatly. May I, young Harry?"

Biting his lip, Harry nodded slightly. "Has Charlie—?"

"There have been a few occasions, yes."

"Okay, then. Doesn't hurt, does it?"

"I have bitten you before."

* * *

It was almost as if he were drunk – the way his legs wobbled and felt highly unsteady. Harry stumbled inside Charlie's tent and promptly fell over the man's outstretched legs and landed face first on the soft carpet. "Ughh," he groaned and didn't bother getting up. The ground was deliriously comfortable _and _itwas mostly still when he was lying down on it.

"Fuck, Harry," Charlie cursed. "You startled–_are you drunk_?"

"Nooo," he groaned. Harry rolled over on his back and arched his head back. He languidly waved a hand and pointed at the band–aid. "Bastard bit me! See? That _wicked_–"

"Endorphins, I see," Charlie muttered. Harry chuckled quietly and held out his arms, beckoning him to come closer. "Dare I?"

Harry nodded slowly as a lazy – _seductive _– grin slowly formed on his face. "Horny as fuck," he said. He lifted his hips a bit for emphasis and all at once, Charlie was _very_ aware of Harry's…_excitement. _"See?"

"Oh, yes," Charlie murmured, already on his feet, and then he was kneeling over Harry. "I see. Very clearly." He brought a hand down and palmed the erection and Harry gasped. "I'll fix it–"

"Damn right you will," Harry muttered as he grabbed Charlie by his thick hair. He pulled Charlie down and kissed him. It was a slow and unhurried kiss that belied the aroused state Harry appeared to be in. "With that hot mouth of yours," Harry continued as if he hadn't stopped to kiss Charlie at all. Charlie grinned. Harry frowned. "What?" Disgruntled.

Charlie shook his head. "Nothing. You're hot," was all he murmured. Then they kissed again.

* * *

_And_, THE END!

Fun, wasn't it?


End file.
